


You Don't Have to Be Afraid

by monicawoe



Category: Legion (TV)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Violence, bodily autonomy issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 09:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicawoe/pseuds/monicawoe
Summary: David's POV of the attack on Division Three; spoilers up through the end of the season.





	

The Division Three building is enormous. David hadn't seen this much of it last time, when Syd and the others had rescued him, just one of its back exits as they were running for their lives through chaos and a hail of gunfire.

He counts nineteen armed guards patrolling the entrance visible just behind the gate. But the whole perimeter is undoubtably guarded, and there have to be more inside. "So what's the plan?"

 _"Save Amy,"_ Lenny answers, irritatingly calm.

"Yeah. But how? This place is crawling with guards. There's probably dozens more inside."

_"Oh no. Dozens more ants. Whatever shall we do?"_

"Those ants have automatic weapons."  
  
Lenny scoffs. _"Watch and learn, kid. Watch and learn."_ Her consciousness expands inside of him, pushing against the walls David had learned to put up—flimsy things pasted together out of cardboard and plaster, just barely enough to keep out the noise, to keep his power in check. But when Lenny takes over, her will slotting into him, those walls turn to dust. David winces, dreading the overwhelming noise that comes when he lets his guard down—all those voices, all those emotions, all that pain.

But instead, when Lenny takes over, there's quiet, startling in its clarity.

He sees _everything_ , hears _everything_ , knows exactly how many guards there are out here, past the gate, inside the complex; he can hear their thoughts, and more importantly how unaware they are of him.

Lenny stands—David stands, and walks right up to the front gate. The guards outside the gate keep their weapons down. The one on the right says, "Sir, this is a restricted area. We're going to have to ask you to leave."

"Sorry, boys. I got business inside." Lenny keeps walking, the guards raise their weapons, and then they're flung back a hundred feet, hurtling through the air.

"Little pigs, little pigs, let me in," Lenny says to the closed ten-foot high gate. "Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin," she continues, pulling the gate off its hinges with a thought. Ten guards stand behind the gate, forming a human barricade. And they're terrified. David can hear their panicked thoughts—the one right across from him is thinking of his wife, of his little girl.

"It's okay," he says. "You don't have to be afraid." He holds up his hands in a non-threatening gesture, but Lenny sends a burst of power out through them, knocking all of the guards back; they slam against the compound's walls and topple to the ground, bleeding.

"Take it easy," David says, under his breath. "Don't need to kill anyone."

_"Don't need to. But it's fun."_

"No, it's not."

She sighs. _"Thought you wanted to save Amy. You chickening out on me?"_ Her voice takes on a mocking tone, _"Want to tuck your tail between your widdle wegs and go back home?"_

"No!" David's heart races anger and desperation. He remembers what he saw: how terrified Amy was, the pain they were putting her through, all because of him. "No, we're doing this. But we're doing it my way."

Lenny's grip on his body lessens and he takes control, heading for the building with the red double-door straight ahead of them. And then an armored jeep comes rolling towards him—an armored jeep with a rocket launcher. "Whoa, whoa!" David says, stopping in his tracks. "Wait a minute!"

The jeep stops in front of him, the launcher moves, barrel pointing right at him. That constant, simmering rage David's felt since they'd left Summerland bubbles up and spills over and he shoves his will at the jeep, sends it tumbling away from him like a kicked toy. One of the soldiers is thrown from the jeep and crashes into a large fuel barrel that catches fire on impact.  
  
_"Nicely done,"_ Lenny says.

"That's not—that wasn't what I wanted to—"

A dozen more soldiers run up, surrounding him, weapons raised.

"I want to speak to somebody in charge," David says, proud of how steady his voice sounds.

"Affirmative," one of the soldiers says.

 _Well that was easy,_ David thinks.

The soldier gives a nod, and they all open fire.

Lenny wrenches control back before David can fully process what's happening and sends the bullets flying back at them, a continuous barrage until the firing stops and they all collapse to the floor, thoroughly perforated and bleeding profusely. _"You happy now?"_ she asks.

David's ears are ringing, heart thudding in his chest. He wasn't fast enough, and they were going to kill him. _They were going to kill him._ And if they were going to kill _him_ , then Amy would be next.

 _"Well?"_ Lenny asks.

"Just—just get me to Amy."

 _"My pleasure."_ The next group of guards comes, flanked by more armored jeeps. A flick from his wrist, and one of the jeeps explodes and the other upends, balancing on its front while the driver screams. David doesn't have time to think about why the driver isn't falling, because he's walking knee-deep through remains. Chunks of bodies—arms and legs, torsos stuck halfway in the ground, faces frozen in horror.

 _"No—no what are you doing?"_ David tries frantically to wrestle control back from Lenny, but before he can get a firm hold, more things explode. Another two fuel tanks. Another group of soldiers. _"Stop!"_ he thinks, but there's no real force behind it. The power pouring out of him is a live-wire, lashing out in every direction, burning through their obstacles with ease, and the more of it Lenny directs outwards, the less strength David has to protest, the less reason he can find to protest at all. These people—they took Amy, they _hurt_ her, they left him no choice. They'd brought this on themselves, and now—well now they're paying the price.

And Lenny knows exactly how to take them down. She doesn't just use his power like a battering ram, she focuses it on everything around them—pries the molecules of the building apart while she shoves people through, and then lets it all snap back when they're waist-deep in the floor and the wall, killing them instantly. She wields his power with a ruthless efficiency and skill David can only dream of.

The unfettered violence sends his body into overdrive, limbs thrumming with energy, brain singing with dopamine and it's horrible, it's worse than anything he imagined he could do—the sheer brutality of it, the ridiculous ease with which he can end so many lives. But he can't stop, even though he wants to...or at least part of him does. But he doesn't. He can't. Instead, he just stops watching. Pretends he's somewhere else, thinks of Syd and her smile and the smell of her hair, and waits for the screaming to stop.

When it does, Lenny nudges him, hands him back the steering wheel with a _"Tada!"_. They've reached the holding cells: cruelly angled slabs of cement, with flickering red lights designed to cause paranoia and prevent sleep.

Dr. Kissinger is in the first cell they come across, Amy is in the second. "Let me go!" the doctor screams. "I will," David promises, as he raises his hand and pulls Amy's cell open. Amy stares at him and doesn't move. She looks horrible—cheeks drawn, eyes bruised from tears and lack of sleep. He climbs up and reaches his hand carefully out to her. The moment his fingertips touch her shoulder she falls apart in shuddering sobs, clutching him. "Oh god, David. Get us out of here, get us out of here, _please_."

And that he can do.

#

It's afterwards, when they're back in their childhood home, when Amy is safe and the adrenaline leaves him, that the true horror of what he's done sinks in. All those people dead—by his hand, by Lenny's, it doesn't make a difference. He let it happen. His power mowed them down. _And it was so easy_.

But that's not the worst part, David realizes, as his exhausted consciousness start to slip into oblivion. The worst part is that during that slaughter, when he knew exactly what was happening, when Lenny—when _he_ snuffed out the lives of those soldiers by the handful...there were moments where he _liked_ it, where he reveled in the sheer strength of his power. Self-loathing makes bile pool in his mouth, and he wonders in a fevered panic if he could take himself out just as easily. But then Lenny pushes herself to the forefront and him into forced sleep—a welcome oblivion.

#

"You can kill the others," the Interrogator, Clark, says.

The Division Three soldiers ready their weapons.

"No." David pushes the soldiers aside with a thought, piles them up on top of each other in a tower. Like human Jenga. He can feel their confusion turn to fear turn to animal terror and a part of him—not the parasite, but _him_ , hums with delight. They _should_ be scared of him.

For a moment, he considers solidifying the tower, nudging their molecules apart just enough for them to fuse together. It'd kill them—not right away, but slowly, painfully. And it'd serve as a lesson. A warning. They need to learn that they can't do this. That their rules don't apply anymore. And if he has to teach it to them one by one, he will.

But he stops himself, leaves them as they are, and turns back to Clark. "You're right. We need to talk."

"Shit," Clark says. And then he falls silent for a good long while.

#

 

The thing David thought was Lenny is dying. Its skin is getting sallow and looser, necrotic holes opening in the skin. It glares up at him with impotent, pitiful rage and hunger and David recognizes it. He's had that look, seen it looking back at him from the mirror too many times to count—a desperate need for something just out of reach. _Withdrawal._

"You've been with me, inside of me, my whole life," David says, circling around her. "Making me crazier, making things worse."

"Making things _better._ " it says, voice a low seething rumble.

"Bullshit." David straightens, takes a step back and looks at the room around them. The walls are showing endlessly repeating images of him as a baby. "You've been using me. Feeding on me, since what—day one?"

The Lenny-thing licks its lips.

"And now you're cut off." David nods to himself, understanding sinking in. "You're dependent on me. All that talk about ants and spores, but that's not it at all. I cut you off for good...and you die."

"I'm not going to die. Not now. Not ever. Even your father couldn't kill me. I'm beyond death."

"Yeah, I don't think you are." David smiles. "We found a way to pull you out, and when we do, when you're out of me for good, it'll all be over. You'll die." Satisfaction curls, low in his gut, making him feel warm. "And I'll be free."

"You'll never be free," it says, and it's scared. Of David. It's afraid of him.

"You don't have to be afraid," David says, graciously. "Just let go."

A stronger prickling of electricity pulls David back into the now. Cary's fiddling with the headband. "I'm boosting the power, but it—it won't last long."

"You don't look so good," Clark says.

"I'm fine," David mutters.

"No something's going on here."

David lifts his heavy head. The band feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, and as its energy hums through David's brain, reinforcing the shield surrounding him, Lenny starts to convulse.

David focuses on the man sitting across from him instead. Clark has practice hiding his emotions. Or he thinks he does. "Well, this has been great, but I think I hear my ride. Does anybody see a warbird helicopter?" he asks, and his facial expression is convincingly calm, but underneath it he's shaking. He stinks of fear, and most of him wants to run. His burned skin itches and he keeps remembering the air catching fire and he's waiting for the heat to start bubbling up around him again, to finish him off, and he thinks of his husband and his son and he wanted to say goodbye, but if he can't, if he dies now, God if only they can take David and this whole godforsaken place down with him then it would be a sacrifice worth making.

"You don't have to be afraid," David tells him.

"I'm not."

"You don't have to be afraid."

_The parasite shivers as more of David's power drifts out of it and back into him. Its shoulders sag but its eyes are burning embers of fury._

"You don't have to be...afraid."

_"I'm not," Lenny says._

"I'm not," Clark says.

"You don't...have to..."

_" **You** should be afraid," Lenny sputters through yellow teeth—and lunges at him, throwing the last of her strength against the force-field surrounding David. It wavers and flickers, but holds._

Lenny shudders and dissipates into the ether. David watches for a few more moments before focusing on Clark again. "...be...afraid."

"Stop saying that," Clark says.

"Why don't you just leave us alone?" Syd asks.

"Yeah, to do what?"

"I don't know. Fall in love, have babies."

"Well, see, now that's a problem. 'Cause your babies and my babies, who wins that sandbox squabble?"

David struggles to lift his head again. He's so tired, and Lenny's last attack made the shield precariously thin. The whispers have started again—thoughts from all around him, Summerland's residents, and further away, and further still. Though most of them are real, he's fairly certain some of them exist only in his brain. "You don't have to be..."

"I know, I don't have to be afraid, but I am, because look at you, all of you. You're gods. And one day you're going to wake up and realize you don't have to listen to us anymore."

Some of the voices whispering in David's head find that highly amusing. "Well, isn't that the history of the world?" he asks. "People of different nations, different languages, learning to live together."

And Clark scoffs, weakly. He knows the lie for what it is.

"Are you offering me a peace treaty or threatening me?" Clark asks.

"I'm not offering you anything," David says. "You tried to kill my friends."

Clark swallows, and his panic spikes for just a moment, but he hides it, or thinks he does.

"Who do you answer to?" David asks.

"The government."

"I want specifics. Names."

"Nobody you've ever heard of. The people you think are in charge—they're not."

"So who is?" It's getting harder to focus, harder to stay awake. The band around his head is burning and the whispers are getting louder.

Melanie notices, but says nothing. She doesn't want to show weakness either.

Clark sighs. "Look, even if I wanted to, I'm not even in the top tiers of—we're talking about three branches of government."

"I just need a meeting," David says, ignoring the painful throbbing in his skull. "Face to face."

"Why? So you can melt their heads?"

Lenny cackles. _"Now that's a good idea."_

"All right, this meeting is over," Melanie says, standing.

"No, I need a meeting so that I can change their...mind." David says. And then his vision tunnels and he collapses.

#

After it's all over, it's quiet. Just him and Syd out on the balcony. The night air is warm, the whispers are silenced, there's no parasite scratching at the inside of his brain. David feels content. Hopeful.

A little silver orb, about the size of a tennis ball, flies up to them, hovering. "What is that? Is that one of Cary's?" David chuckles at the design. It's kind of cute.

"I think it likes you," Syd says.

The orb scans David, and then the beam it's emitting sucks him in. He's trapped. He screams and shouts—calls for Syd to help him—pounds against the strange metal cell but it's useless. The sense of displacement is awful and familiar—his molecules are in a transient state, which he recognizes from his prior teleportations. Schroedinger's David, both inside the orb and not.

The spherical cage begins to move. Sydney is still watching him, and he feels her panic, tries to will himself out, pushes with his mind until his cells start to pull together. The orb picks up speed, moving faster and faster, but David's almost got it, has almost made himself tangible again. And then the orb stops moving.

It let's go of his atoms, sets him down in a big empty room. It looks like an airplane hangar, or a bunker. All cement, no furniture, three rows of blinding overhead lights. He squints up at the tinted glass observation room high above him, smiles, and says, "You don't have to be afraid."

#


End file.
